


One Giant Step for Petrolheads

by Anonymous



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, IN SPACE!, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, spaceship racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Grand Tour presenters are given the chance to race alien spaceships. Loser has to pay a very alien price.
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson/Richard Hammond/James May
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Anonymous, Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	One Giant Step for Petrolheads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yujacheong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujacheong/gifts).



> Note to the warnings: technically the aliens made them do it so it could be viewed as dubcon, but all members are consenting and enjoy it.

It could be any other episode if this one wasn't being filmed and broadcast from the furthest place that humans had ever travelled. Everything else though was usual.

"It only seems right that Captain Slow gets the spaceship with the least booster thrust," Jeremy announced. His dominant personality and bristling hair usually allowed him to apportion out the vehicles.

"Are you allowed to call me Captain Slow?" James asked with a cheeky wink. "That might be owned by the BBC!"

Hammond booed. Thousands of light years away, the audience cheered. The alien tech that the channel had negotiated was doing an amazing job as an uplink, and the cultural exchange had been going swimmingly so far.

Jeremy held up his hand. "This is the Grand Tour." he said. "Stay tuned for our up-coming segment where we see the most famous TV - excuse me - holocast broadcaster of this alien race the Brabrayi go face to face with that doyen of journalism, Sir Trevor McDonald in an alien vehicle."

"But first." James cut in, "it's the bit you all really want to see, and in a true first for the Grand Tour, we're going to be broadcasting truly live....from a place on the other side of the galaxy! Hammond, you got your helmet on?"

Hammond supplied his own wink towards the camera. "More than that James." he said. As the most accident prone member of the team, he had been especially worried! "We've tried and tested the kit the Brabrayi have been kind enough to provide us and we can literally come to no harm. "

"To demonstrate." Jeremy said, and crashed his head against the desk with all his force, bouncing back with no issue.

"That proves nothing." James pointed out. "There's nothing in there to be hurt!" 

Jeremy ignored him. "This is going to be the wildest episode ever." he said. "As you all know, we've been honoured to know that the aliens have been viewing earth TV for decades, and in all that time, we're the first people they've ever invited to visit. The only other time they've ever considered it was with The Professionals, but they didn't like the hair enough in the end."

"My contribution to the audience." Hammond supplied, running a hand through his locks.

An alien who was helping man the cameras, gave a distinct sigh of lust. Granted it was in a very different language to English, but the gist was the same. It was not for nothing that he had been voted one of the sexiest men in the world in 2007 after all and his appeal it seemed spanned species and lack of tentacles.

"Of course." Jeremy said. "There is a catch. Our hosts have been very generous, but there's always a price to pay. Want to tell them James?"

James blinked. "It's quite simple. While of course our interpretation of the language still leaves something to be desired given the brevity of contact, we've pretty much sussed out, that the loser of this race is expected to provide pleasure to the aliens for three days. We're pretty sure that means that we offer ourselves for dinner dates and provide some tentacle massage."

"Even if it didn't we'd take that chance." Richard said cheerfully. "Who would decline the chance to be the first ever presenters to race alien spaceships. A little bit of an Unexpected Encounter of the Third Kind isn't enough to stop us. Besides, Clarkson's going to lose."

"I will not." Jeremy said completely outraged. Had James forgotten that his little red hot number had the least booster thrust!

"Switzerland." coughed James and Jeremy ignored him.

"Into the ships team." He said. He'd secured what he thought was a key to the best looking ship of them all. It was a bright cherry red, over 7000 horsepower (that was the translation that came out, but he wasn't sure if the aliens had horses or not), Hammond was ensconced safely within a sleek black number, and James was trudging slowly towards the rather dull grey looking vehicle with the flared bottom. 

The race was fifteen space-cubits, no hyperspace protocols allowed, just pure old fashioned thrust. There were meteoroids to dodge, but mostly it was a speed race. AI's supplied instructions for control use mostly in the form of blinking red lights on the control panel. Luckily as the aliens were approximately human sized, nothing was too far to reach.

In a short, yet highly contested race, complete with Jeremy crashing through a small meteor, Hammond whooping so loudly some of the footage was almost impossible to hear and James almost running out of oxygen after he hit the wrong button, the verdict was clear. 

"You all lose." The interpreter mournfully said. "Very bad. Sir Trevor is much better than that. But the aliens are very decent people, they say. They understand that it would be a culture shock for you to pleasure them. Instead, inspired by the human TV they have watched, they have offered to cut down the sentence to one day. Instead of the three of you offering three days each as agreed, you can instead pleasure each other for one day only and provide planetwide entertainment. They said that based on decades of flirtation that you might prefer that."

"Stop the camera." James said hoarsely. "This is not part of the show."

They put their heads together. Hammond got right to the point as the emotionally open one of the three and the only one to wear a necklace. "Cut the crap." he said. "We've done worse right? At least this way what happens on Brabrayan will stay on Brabrayan. Like Ibiza."

The aliens were kind enough to show them to a well appointed bedroom, with a gigantic bed, a tray full of interesting drinks and a range of human prophylactic devices that appeared to span centuries. Jeremy as the self-proclaimed leader was the first to strip, Hammond was next, James May was of course last and slowest. There was an awkward moment before Jeremy snapped and grabbed an armful of Hammond. Somehow being here, far away from the norms of Earth and the insistence that they could only be friends, he felt his inhibitions drop. Hammond gasped but kissed back enthusiastically, holding a hand out to James, who stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both of them.

"Do you think they knew?" James asked. There had been a cheeky little wink after all from the interpreter. 

"Who cares." Jeremy said impatiently. "Clothes off!"

The kisses escalated fast. Even if they had never kissed before, they had known each other for so long, that it was more or less second nature even for the first time. James squeezed Hammond's arse, Clarkson bit James's neck, Hammond got to work on all of their clothes, and the rest is between only themselves and the alien cameras filming it in 3D as a piece of historical interest for first contact in more than one way.


End file.
